Somewhere In Between

I can't be losing sleep over this, no, I can't

And I cannot stop pacing

Give me a few hours and I'll have this all sorted out

I can't be this unsturdy

For the umpteenth time in as many nights, Harry Potter lay in his four-poster bed wide-awake. He could hear every noise in Gryffindor Tower, it seemed. Neville's snores. Pig's unnaturally shrill hoots from the perch beside Ron's bed. He even thought he heard the clock in the common room chiming.

Three chimes it's only 3 AM, Harry thought. He sighed heavily and went over the pattern in his head again he was determined to break it, but he wasn't quite sure how.

It went like this he'd go to bed, just as the four other boys in the fifth year boys' dormitory would do. He'd fall asleep, just the same as Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus  but what he couldn't do, for all his trying, was stay asleep. And to make matters worse, the source of all this restlessness was the dreams he was having. And they weren't ordinary dreams, either. They were dreams of darkness dreams that told of foreboding dreams of pain and suffering. And night after night, the thing that pulled him out of the dark dreams was the all too familiar burning sensation on his forehead, when his old scar began to signal trouble.

The problem was, he didn't know what trouble the scar was foretelling the dreams were a tapestry of images, warning him of things to come, but they were so vague. He couldn't pinpoint who was in mortal peril, though he knew for sure that many people were going to be. When he tried to see faces, he was suddenly thrust into a new scene usually more disturbing than the last.

Harry grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and made his way from the dormitory. He found himself doing what he had done many times since the start of his fifth year at Hogwarts. He fumbled in the darkness for his Invisibility Cloak, slipped it on and went down the staircase to the common room, hoping to find the one thing that would bring him peace.

***

This cannot be happening

This is over my head but underneath my feet

Because by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat

And everything will be back to the way it was

Ginny Weasley shot bolt upright in her four-poster bed, beads of sweat dampening her forehead. She blotted her skin dry with the corner of her bed sheet and gasped. She'd had another nightmare. She cursed under her breath and massaged her throbbing temples.

Not another one, she thought, feeling ill. She'd constantly had nightmares for quite a few months following her first year at Hogwarts. They eased up a bit by the time she was in her third year. But by the end of that same year, circumstances had changed. The Dark Lord had returned, and along with him, so did her nightmares.

The nightmares were always the same. They began with Tom Riddle's smooth, seductive voice calling her. She never saw him  she only ever heard him uttering her name, beckoning her to him. And every time she'd try to find him. Every time she found herself mesmerized by him, just like she had been when she was an eleven-year-old girl. And every time she'd curse herself when she'd awaken from the nightmare for being so naοve, because each time she looked for Riddle, she ended up finding a beast she'd see the red, malicious eyes first, then the demon-like man would appear and the scariest part was that he knew her. He remembered her, and there was never anywhere to hide.

It was probably Ginny's greatest fear, now that You-Know-Who had risen again  that he would remember her and come for her. He was able to control her once, so why couldn't he again? Just the thought brought a wave of chills over her and made her stomach lurch. It made her want to hide under her covers like she did when she was a four-year-old after Fred and George had frightened her with stories of vampires and werewolves. She'd gladly taken on both vampires and werewolves now, if it meant she could avoid facing her biggest fear  Voldemort.

Ginny couldn't get comfortable  not after thinking about her nightmare again. She slid her feet into a pair of violet slippers and skittered out of the dormitory and down the staircase, seeking refuge in the comforts of the common room fireplace.

***

I wish that it was just that easy

I am waiting for tonight then waiting for tomorrow

And I am somewhere in between what is real and just a dream

Ginny nestled herself into the squashiest chair in the common room. During the hubbub of the day, older Gryffindors usually occupied it, but at 3:15 AM, it was all hers.

The fire was crackling in the grate, as she hoped it would be, and she watched the flames dance and flicker for a while.

"It's relaxing, isn't it?" said a disembodied voice.

Ginny leapt to her feet and spun around, hoping to find the person to whom the voice belonged. She saw no one.

"Who's there?" she hissed. She pulled off one of her violet slippers and brandished it into the darkness. "Show yourself!"

"Oh!" said the voice in surprise. "I forgot I'm invisible."

A mop of untidy black hair emerged from a void, followed by a very sheepish looking face, framed by a pair of round eyeglasses. Then, a lank boy of fifteen stood before her, garbed in flannel pajamas and holding an Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry Potter!" said Ginny in exasperated tones. She chucked the fuzzy violet slipper at him. "You just about scared me to death what are you doing down here?"

"Well, I didn't know I'd be coming down for target practice," replied Harry, handing her back the slipper and grinning. Ginny felt her face go pink and was thankful it was too dark for him to see it. "Actually," he continued, his voice more serious, "I couldn't sleep."

"Me either," admitted Ginny. She sat back down in the armchair. "I like watching the fire it calms me."

"Funny," said Harry. "It does me, too it reminds me of " He hesitated.

"Of what?" asked Ginny.

"Nothing really," he said quickly. "It's just relaxing is all."

"Hmm," said Ginny as she began watching the fire again. "Are you dreaming of of You-Know-Who? Is that why you can't sleep?"

"How'd you guess?" said Harry. "They're getting really disturbing. And I can't quite get a grasp on what it all means what I mean to say is, I know what the dreams stand for, but I just can't figure it all out yet. I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"Surprisingly enough, you are," she said. "I've been having my own You-Know-Who dreams though, I prefer to think of them as nightmares. Dreams are something good, you know?"

"Yeah I guess you're right well, what would you rather dream about?" asked Harry.

Ginny felt her face go pink again. She couldn't answer that question. Was he mad? She decided to turn the tables on him instead.

"I'll only tell if you do what would you rather be dreaming of? Quidditch? Chasing down the Golden Snitch with Cho Chang hot on the tail of your Firebolt?"

"Er no, not really," answered Harry. Apparently, he had not anticipated Ginny's response to his question. "There was this one dream I had the first night I came to stay at the Burrow last summer it was a good one."

"Is that all I get?" said Ginny. "You're not going to tell how the dream was of Mum's cooking or of Dad showing you his plug collection?"

"It didn't quite go like that," said Harry, avoiding looking at her by gazing at the sparks in the grate.

"Well, how did it go then?" asked Ginny. Her curiosity was piqued now.

Harry turned to her. "That's not fair you want details and you haven't told me anything yet I'm not saying another word until you spill."

Ginny crossed her arms. "You play dirty."

"I resent that I'm just playing by the rules you laid down." A grin was curling on the corner of his mouth.

"Okay I suppose that is true," she said, smiling in response to the look he was now giving her. "My dream preference " She didn't know where to go with this. He was going to see right through her if she lied. He was already eyeing her suspiciously and she hadn't said more that a few words. "There's this really good one I used to have when I was really little that Charlie brought a Common Welsh Green named Edgar home and we'd all take turns flying it over the village. The villagers would cheer at me and throw sweets for me to catch as we swooped down low. I always liked that dream."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Cute," was his response. "Have you got anything you've dreamed, oh say, in the past decade to tell me about?"

"Are you making fun of my Edgar dream?" said Ginny in a slightly incensed voice. She hadn't made that dream up. It may not have been the one she thought was her best ever, but at least she told him about a real one.

Harry laughed at her as she pulled off her slipper again and waved it threateningly at him.

"I'm not making fun really, it's a er, sweet dream."

"Glad you think so," said Ginny. "Now you owe me a bit more, and you'd better hope I don't laugh at you."

"Right," said Harry as he unnecessarily adjusted his glasses. "I suppose the dream I had was just about me feeling at home at the Burrow, I mean. At home being around all of you, that is."

"Oh," replied Ginny. "I wish it was just that easy you know, to switch from the bad dreams to the good ones."

"Yeah," said Harry.

***

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in

Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again

I know that I just don't need this

Looking back, Harry never figured out exactly what motivated him to make his first move he'd been harboring this feeling deep down since the previous summer. The month he'd spent with the Weasleys had opened his eyes he'd begun to see Ginny in a whole new light. It had dawned on him after that first night, when he'd dreamed of the Burrow.

It wasn't the Burrow as it was then, but as it would be in ten years time. He saw Molly and Arthur sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking to Percy and his wife, Penny, who was bouncing a cherub-like baby with scarlet ringlets crowning his head on her knee. He saw Fred and George laughing in the living room, each of them sitting beside a stunning young lady and neither of them wearing wedding bands. He saw Ron and Hermione seated at the foot of the staircase, whispering to each other Hermione's belly was round and full she laughed and said, "No, Chudley is not an acceptable name for a girl or a boy!" Then he saw Ginny come down the stairs, slip past Ron and Hermione and call into the kitchen to her mother. "Bill and Charlie won't be here until tomorrow, Mum " A pop! interrupted her as Harry saw himself, ten years older, Apparate into the Weasley's kitchen. "Harry!" Ginny called out and she ran to him, embraced him and kissed him with such an intensity that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just from remembering. It was then that he noticed the wedding bands on his and Ginny's hands. It was then that he realized the scenario he was dreaming of

Never in a million years would Harry have ever fathomed telling anyone, let alone Ginny, about that dream  not now at any rate. But almost every night since the start of term, the two of them had started this nightly dance and tonight, Harry had forgotten the steps. He'd forgotten that he had to stay invisible. He'd forgotten that Ginny would come down and sit in the squashy armchair. The rules were that he'd watch her as she watched the fire the truth was, it wasn't the fire so much as watching her watch the fire that brought him peace. The fire itself reminded him of her he'd seen her on the lawn just the other day and the wind had swept her fiery locks up in the breeze it looked just like the dancing flames to him.

He hadn't a clue why she was coming down there, though he'd never been able to ask. He sat still under his cloak every night so that she could relax in front of the fire and so that he could watch her and think about the good dream and forget about the bad one. He felt horrible now that he knew she was having nightmares, too. It seemed rather stupid of him, now that he contemplated it. Why else would she not be sleeping?

Perhaps that was what inspired him to walk towards that squashy armchair and ask her if there was enough room for him to sit, too  he wanted her to forget about her nightmares. Perhaps more so, it was the desire he had deep down just to be close to her. He was sure that's what had moved him to speak that night after so many nights of being silent.

***

Ginny didn't answer. Harry had just asked her if it was all right to sit down beside her. She thought for an instant that she'd gotten laryngitis or possibly that she'd been struck dumb. It was probably the latter, she thought after a while.

She slid over in the chair and Harry sat beside her, taking her move as an answer instead of awaiting a vocal reply. He awkwardly slipped his hand in hers and said softly,"We don't need the bad dreams, do we?"

Ginny shook her head.

"And it's a good thing we have each other," he said.

Ginny nuzzled her head against his shoulder and murmured, "Yes, a very good thing."

***

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potterverse. Those privileges go to JKR, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, WB, etc. I also have no ownership of the lyrics to Somewhere In Between, which was written by Jason Wade of Lifehouse. The song appears on the album No Name Face, which is a production of DreamWorks Records.

Author's Note: I know this has been done before heck, I've done it before! It's just a scenario that I keep imagining in different ways. This particular songfic came to me while I was listening to my Lifehouse album (big surprise, eh?!) I've been obsessed with dreams ever since I read Scholastic catalog's rundown of OotP. There's nothing spoilerish about this fic, however it's all a product of my twisted imagination. ;) And thanks to my lovely beta, Sherylyn. This was the easiest edit you've ever put me through!

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